Stella sipped coffee from her china cup and gazed at the framed photo of her husband, Roger, on the sideboard. She continued her story about how Bev from the library’s daughter was going off the rails. “Tattoos, piercings, a boyfriend who looks more like a girl,” I said to Bev, “Bev, you need to set that girl straight right now or she’ll end up in some cult somewhere, or worse.”

She set her cup down on the flowery tablecloth. “I wonder what you’d make of her, Rog,” she said. “You’d think she was quite the sight, I’m sure.” Another sip. “Our Tom called the other day. He didn’t mention you. Still, he misses you, I’m sure.”

Roger hurled a plate to the floor. The crash echoed through the kitchen, but Stella didn’t even flinch. “I’m right here, Stella!” he roared, towering behind her chair. “I’m not dead. Stop ignoring me. We need to deal with what happened. What you’re doing is sick!”

“Oh, Rog,” murmured Stella, eyes fixed on the photograph. “If only you hadn’t done what you did. I never would have thought it of you. Not you, not my Rog, my rock. The man I thought you were died that day.”

More coffee. “But I’ll always remember what we had. Thirty years. Not a bad innings. I was saying so to Barbara at the cafe just the other day. Now her daughter, Rog, total opposite of Bev’s. Just got a job as a lawyer. A lawyer! Can you imagine? I always hoped her and Tom would get together, but I suppose that was just a mother’s fancy. Not Tom’s type, you’d tell me, and judging by that Jade girl he’s with now I’d say you were right. Nice enough in her own way, though. If only you could meet her.” She put down her cup. “But you never will.”

Roger clasped his hands to his face and stared through his fingers at the back of his wife’s head. Her hair was neatly pinned into a tight grey bun. Then he stamped out of the room, grinding the broken crockery into the lino.

Stella finished her coffee.

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David Cook's stories have appeared in Spelk, Ellipsis Zine, the National Flash Fiction Anthology and more. He's a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. You can find more of his work at www.davewritesfiction.wordpress.com and say hi on Twitter @davidcook100. He lives in Bridgend, Wales, UK, with his wife and daughter. ​